Gemini
by lindsey and marie enterprises
Summary: Amelia Florence Swan, a.k.a. Mia, is Bella's twin sister. In every way except appearance, they are complete opposites. Mia moves to Forks with Bella and is captivated by the mysterious Edward Cullen. How will the story end with a new leading lady? First in a series. By Lindsey


_**Author's Note: Hello, my readers! Lindsey here with another new story! I, like many fan girls, detest Bella, so I gave her a twin sister. And, well…I'll let you decide what you think. Enjoy!**_

**First Sight**

Our mother drove us to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. Bella was wearing her favorite shirt-sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing a light blue t-shirt. My carry-on item, as well as Bella's, was a parka.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its mystical, omnipresent shade that our mother escaped with us when we were only a few months old. It was in this town that we'd spent a month every summer until we were fourteen. That was the year Bella finally put her foot down; these past three summers, our dad, Charlie, vacationed with us in California for two weeks instead.

It was to Forks that we now traveled-an action that I took with great joy. I loved Forks.

I loved Phoenix, too, for different reasons. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city.

"Bella," our mom said to her-the last of a thousand times-before we got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

Our mom looks like us, except with short hair and laugh lines. She addressed Bella because Bella had decided to come only two weeks ago. I'd been planning this for months. At first, I'd been pleased that my twin had decided to accompany me. Later, I discovered her ulterior motive.

"I want to go," she lied. Bella had always been a bad liar, but she'd been saying this lie so frequently now that I was almost convinced.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"We will," I answered.

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want-I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise.

"Don't worry about us," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, Mom," Bella said.

Mom hugged us tightly for a minute, and then we got on the plane, and she was gone.

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.

Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that we were coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten us registered for high school and was going to help us get a car.

But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. I was pretty talkative, but neither Charlie nor my sister was what anyone would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. I knew he was more than a little confused by Bella's decision, though-like our mother before her, she hadn't made a secret of her distaste for Forks.

When we landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen-just unavoidable. I was going to miss the sun a bit.

Charlie was waiting for us with the cruiser. This we were expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. Bella's and my primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of our funds, was that we refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Charlie gave us each an awkward, one-armed hug when we walked-or, in Bella's case, stumbled-our way off the plane.

"It's good to see you, Bells. You too, Mia," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied Bella. "You haven't changed much. How's Renée?"

"Mom's fine," I replied, smiling. "It's good to see you too, Dad." We weren't allowed to call him Charlie to his face.

We had only a few bags between us. Most of our Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. Mom, Bella, and I had pooled our resources to supplement our winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were strapped in.

"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said "good car for you" as opposed to just "good car."

"Well, it's a truck, actually, a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?" Bella prompted.

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.

"Yes," I responded, thinking fondly of my fishing days with Billy and Charlie.

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping neither of us would ask.

"Well, Bella, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine-it's only a few years old, really."

I hoped he didn't think so little of Bella as to believe she would give up that easily. "When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?" I asked hopefully.

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties-or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ch-Dad, we don't really know anything about cars. We wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and we couldn't afford a mechanic…"

"Really, Mia, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

The thing, I thought to myself…it had possibilities-as a nickname, at the very least.

"How cheap is cheap?" I was glad Bella asked. After all, that was the part we couldn't compromise on.

"Well, honeys, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at Bella and looked in the rearview at me with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad," Bella said.

"Yeah, Dad, we were going to buy ourselves a car," I added.

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead as he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. Bella inherited that from him. I, on the other hand…

"That's really sweet, Dad. Thank you!" I leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. I never looked a free truck in the mouth-or engine.

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.

We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for conversation. We stared out the windows in silence.

It was beautiful, of course; even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the trees.

It was like a mythical, wonderful fantasy land.

Eventually, we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, three-bedroom house that he'd bought with our mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had-the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was our new-well, new to us-truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged-the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Bella said. Now our day would be a lot better tomorrow. I really didn't feel like walking two miles twice a day every day, and now we wouldn't have to ride in the Chief's cruiser.

"I'm glad you like it," he said gruffly, embarrassed again.

It took only one trip to get all our stuff upstairs. Bella got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. When we were little, we had shared it. As we got older, the guest bedroom became mine. Since I liked living with Charlie so much, I had given the room my own personal touches over the years. The walls were painted royal blue, my favorite color. In contrast, the bed was a bright, sunshine yellow. The shams and bed skirt were both royal blue. I also had a mahogany desk with a computer on it. I knew Bella had one, too. It was a stipulation from our mother, so we could stay in touch easily.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Bella and Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.

One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, to not have someone breathing down my neck. I opened the window and breathed in the scent of rain and pine that was completely and utterly Forks.

Forks High School had a relieving total of only three hundred and fifty-seven-now fifty-nine-students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together-their grandparents had been toddlers together. Despite this, I was optimistic about the next day.

True enough, I didn't look like a girl from Phoenix should. I was athletic, of course, but I wasn't tan and blonde-all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I was part Irish, though, so that probably contributed. I was slender, and I always loved sports, particularly football. Bella, on the other hand, was so klutzy she was a menace-not that I'd ever repeat that to anyone.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. Bella was just coming out when I went in. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but I already looked fuller, healthier, like I was truly home. I had always liked my skin-it was very clear, almost translucent-looking-and it looked almost ethereal in the dim light of Forks.

Facing my reflection in the mirror, I was calmed by the realization that I should have no problem fitting in.

I had always related well to people in general, and I never had any trouble making friends. Surly I would fit in somewhere in this place.

MSMSMSMS

I slept very well that night. The constant whooshing of the rain lulled me to sleep faster than I thought.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and it felt like a scene out of The Secret Garden, like I was Mary looking out over the moor.

Breakfast with Charlie and Bella was a quiet affair. He wished us luck at school. We thanked him, my fingers crossed. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, Bella and I sat at the old square oak table in two of the three unlatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed. Our mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the four of us in the hospital after Bella and I were born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of our school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at-blackmail material for Bella should I need it.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over our mom. It made us uncomfortable.

We didn't want to be too early to school, but we couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket-which felt like one of my mom's hugs-and headed out into the rain, Bella at my heels.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak us through immediately as Bella reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots made me smile. I'd always liked the rain, and Phoenix was always too dry. We couldn't pause to admire our truck again as we wanted; Bella was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around our heads and clung to our hair under our hoods.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. I got in the driver's seat because I knew the way better than Bella. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult. I had thoroughly studied a map before coming. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. Even though I knew it was, it was not obvious that it was a school, other than the sign that declared it to be Forks High School. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs we couldn't see its size at first. It looked quaint, though, and I automatically liked it. My old school had always intimidated me.

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office. No one else was parked there, so we were both sure it was off limits, but I decided we would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like idiots. I stepped eagerly out of the boiling truck cab and walked with Bella down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. Bella and I took deep breaths before I opened the door.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd expected. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Amelia Swan, and this is my sister, Isabella," I informed her, and immediate awareness lit her eyes. We were expected, a topic of gossip, no doubt. Twin daughters of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the one she was looking for. "I have your schedules right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show us.

She went through our classes, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave us each a slip to have each teacher sign, which we were to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at us and hoped, like Charlie, that we would like it here in Forks. I grinned warmly, but Bella's looked like a grimace.

When we went back to our truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. We were both glad to see that most of the cars were older like ours, nothing flashy. At home, we'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as we were in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to us. Bella shot me a grateful look.

We looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully, we wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of our noses all day. We stuffed everything in our bags, slung them over our shoulders, and Bella sucked in a huge breath.

"You can do this," I encouraged her. She had always been she shy one. "No one is going to bite you." She smiled slightly, finally exhaled, and stepped out of the truck.

We kept our faces pulled back into our hoods as we walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. Our plain black jackets didn't stand out, I noticed with relief.

Once we got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I noticed Bella's breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as we approached the door, and I squeezed her hand in reassurance. She tried holding her breath as we followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of us stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. We copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least our skin wouldn't be a standout here.

We took the slips up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at us when he saw our names-not an encouraging response-and of course Bella flushed tomato red. But at least he sent Bella to an empty seat at the back without introducing us to the class. I took a seat somewhere in the middle. This way, the class had to divide themselves to stare. At least Bella wouldn't have everyone staring at her. I waved politely at a girl on my right, and she smiled back shyly.

I looked at the reading list that had been given to Bella and me: Brontë, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. It was comforting that I'd read everything and had even kept my old essays. I suddenly felt a piece of paper tap my elbow. I opened the note and it said, _What's your name?_

I wrote down, _Amelia Swan. What's yours?_ I then passed it back. When it returned, it said, _Angela Weber. Your sister is Isabella, right?_

_Bella, and you can call me Mia._

_I like those names._

_Thanks. Our mom picked them out._

_No offense, but how come you and Bella are so pale?_

_None taken. We're part Irish, so we have pale skin._

_Ah, I see. So, what's your next class?_

_Government with Jefferson in building 6._

_That's too bad. I had hoped we'd have next class together._

_Oh, well._

_Is Bella okay? She doesn't look so good._

I looked back at my sister before answering. _She's fine. She just gets nervous easily. Plus, she's kind of shy. She'll come around, though._

Angela and I passed a few more notes before class ended. When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to Bella.

"Are you Amelia or Isabella Swan?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

"Bella," she corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at her.

"And I'm Mia," I offered. About half the people looking at Bella stared at me now.

"Where's your next class?" he asked her.

She had to check in her bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six." She shot me a pleading look.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.

Bella smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I turned around, and they promptly scattered.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very," Bella replied.

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year," I lamented.

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," Bella told him.

"You don't look very tan."

"Our mother is part albino."

He studied Bella's face apprehensively, and we both sighed. It looked like Bella's dry sense of humor wouldn't work well here.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as Bella touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful.

We smiled at him and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion, as Bella and I had the exact same schedule. Our Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made us stand in front of the class and introduce ourselves. Poor Bella stammered, blushed, and tripped over her own boots on the way to her seat. I shot Mr. Varner a withering look before sitting across the aisle from my sister.

After two classes, we started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask us questions about how we were liking Forks. Bella mostly tried to be diplomatic, but I was very sincere in my compliments of this place. As an added bonus, we never once needed the map.

One girl sat next to Bella in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with us to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet six inches (I was two inches taller than Bella), but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. Her name was Jessica, and we both smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I tried to keep up, but I failed miserably.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to us. I remembered the names, but I had difficulty placing them with the faces. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to us. The boy from English, Eric, waved at Bella and me from across the room.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where we sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at Bella and me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big-muscled like a serious weight lifter with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blonde. The last one was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room, myself included. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixie like, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this shaded town. Paler than Bella and me, the albinos. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes—purplish, bruise-like shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.

But all of this is not why I couldn't look away.

I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful—maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy.

They were all looking away—away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with tray—unopened soda, unbitten apple—and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.

"Who are _they_?" I asked Jessica.

As she looked up to see who I meant—though already knowing, probably, from my tone—suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine.

He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest—it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

Jessica giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.

"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them.

Strange names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here—small town names? Besides, Isabella and Amelia weren't exactly the most modern names in the world. But wait, Jessica is a perfectly common name, so that couldn't be right.

"They are…very nice-looking," Bella stuttered. So, she had been staring, too.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all _together_ though—Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they _live_ together." While her voice held all the shock and condemnation of a small town, even in Phoenix it would cause gossip.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related…"

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales _are_ brother and sister, twins—the blondes—and they're foster children."

Bella mused, "They look a little old for foster children.

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eighteen. She's their aunt or something like that."

I smiled slightly. "That's really nice—for them to take care of all those kids when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealously. "I think Mrs. Cullen can't have kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness.

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" Bella asked. Surely we would have noticed them on one of our summers here.

"No," Jessica said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to new arrivals like us. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that we weren't the only newcomers here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.

As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked u and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today—he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently, none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd turned her down.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They were all noticeably graceful—even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd only been sitting with Bella. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. Angela, who considerately reminded Bella of her name, had Biology II with us the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was just as shy as Bella.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but two. One table held a cute, baby-faced boy with blond hair. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next to that other open seat.

As Bella and I walked down the aisle to introduce ourselves and get our slips signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face—it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red. I uncharacteristically stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.

I'd noticed that his eyes were black—coal black.

Mr. Banner signed our slips and handed us books with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Bella looked at me in trepidation, so I smiled and took the seat next to Edward. I kept my eyes down, still bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately, the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly brother.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.

It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.

I peeked up at him one more time and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase _if looks could kill_ suddenly ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose—he was much taller than I'd thought—his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.

"Aren't you Amelia Swan?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see the cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, from earlier smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad. Even better, Bella was standing beside him with a genuine smile on her face. It took a lot to get one of those out of my sister.

"Mia," I corrected him with a smile.

"Mia, this is Mike," Bella said, motioning to him. I could tell by the way she spoke that she really liked him.

"Hi, Mike."

"Do you two need any help finding your next class?"

"We're headed to the gym, actually. I think we can find it," I replied politely.

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer—he supplied most of the conversation, which Bella seemed to be perfectly okay with. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how Bella felt about the sun. It turned out he was in our English class also. Aside from Angela, he was the nicest person I'd met today.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, Mia, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that _wasn't_ Edward Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.

"Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.

"Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."

"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."

"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by us instead of heading to the dressing room. "I'll see you later, Bella." She blushed slightly.

We both smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring of my sister. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found us both uniforms, but Bella didn't dress down. I, on the other hand, eagerly joined in on the volleyball games running on the court.

The final bell rang at last. I changed and walked slowly with Bella to the office to return our paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and cooler. I offered Bella my jacket, which she accepted.

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of us. I recognized again that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of our entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth hour Biology to another time—any other time.

I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me—his face was absurdly handsome—with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear raising the hair on my arms. I saw Bella glaring at him out the corner of my eye. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip, as did Bella.

"How did your first day go, dears?" the receptionist asked maternally.

"Fine, we both said, but in my case it was a lie. The receptionist gave me an unconvinced look.

When we got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. I climbed in eagerly to escape from the school. I sat in the passenger seat, allowing Bella to drive. For a while, we sat there in silence, her arms around me. Soon, though, we needed the heater, so Bella turned the key and the engine roared to life. We headed back home, me fighting tears the whole way.


End file.
